


The Chamber Pot's Curse

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Filth, Forced Orgasm, Hyper Scat, Hypnotism, Scat, hyper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: When Casey finds a magic chamber pot that gives him the power to get revenge on anyone who has ever wronged him, he can't help but let it go to his head.A commission for someone on furaffinity.
Kudos: 17





	The Chamber Pot's Curse

The woods were often a safe haven for Casey when things became too difficult to deal with, given that it was rare that the various, horrible people that faded in and out of his life rarely ventured into the depths of it. Without any friends, the silence of the trees were his only solace, and even in college, he found it one of the few places he could venture without facing the wrath of those who often liked to bully him for little to no reason. The black cat had come this far in life, all the way up until college, even, and he had never once felt appreciated or that he could feasibly become truly _successful—_ his professors kept his down, his colleagues ridiculed him, and-  
  
The line of thought was immediately interrupted when Casey kicked out in his frustration, cursing quietly as his foot connected with something much harder than he anticipated, and Casey winced with a curse aloud as he pulled back, looking down to find that his foot had scuffed across something very heavy, very solid, and _very_ gold. His brows furrowed as he moved to lean down, crouching as he brushed aside the dirt and leaves that covered it, realizing what it was as he brought it up from the earth. Before him sat an impressively sized, solid gold chamber pot—and judging from what he could tell, it was very much real gold.   
  
Though his lot in life had been poor so far, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of joy at the thought that this _might_ change his fortunes; if he could sell it, then the money he could rake off of it might be unimaginable. With the chamber pot under his arm, he was quick to head back towards town, making it back on to the campus in nearly record time. Unfortunately, heading into campus, he came across one of the worst of his patronizing bullies. Carson, a young bull who happened to be the star of the college’s football team, was on his way off of the main campus to a game with Ashlyn, his collie girlfriend who would be cheering on the team when they got there, hanging off of his arm. Both sneered at the sight of the black cat.   
  
“Trash collecting trash, huh?” Carson mocked, and though it wasn’t the worst thing that the bull had ever said to him, the pitched laugh that the cheerleader next to him let out was what made Casey wince in embarrassment. The laughter continued behind him—where part of the rest of the football team was waiting, who had overheard the joke. Casey’s jaw clenched as Carson and Ashlyn pushed past him, nearly knocking his rare find from his arm in the process.   
  
Still thriving off of the embarrassment burning through his cheeks, frustrated at the helplessness he felt as he saw the two join their friends, he found himself seething. Why did _those two_ get to be popular? Why were they _worshiped_ by the school, celebrated for being the horrible people they were? Glowering with fury, the cat closed his eyes to try and calm down from his humiliated rage, only to hear when he heard a strange voice echo slowly from the pot next to him.  
  
“ _ **Rub the pot and imagine the faces of those who have wronged you. Their humiliation will come tenfold.”  
  
**_ In his shock, Casey nearly dropped the pot, though the call of the mysterious voice was a bit too much to ignore—even if he thought he might be hallucinating given the fact that a _chamber pot_ had just whispered the words of a prophet to him. Still, he found himself so desperate for some shred of retaliation, and he follow the group at a distance all the way to the football game that night. Seeing them both out on the field only seemed to renew his sense of righteous anger, and he closed his eyes while imagining their faces while he rubbed his paw across the expanse of the dirty chamber pot. He could hear the crowd starting to rouse, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that Carson was running at a hard dash towards the other end of the field, only seconds away from scoring a touchdown when he suddenly stopped, dropping the ball as he stood straight.  
  
The other team pursuing him also stopped, freezing in their confusion over why the bull had clearly given up what would have been a clear win to the game, but Carson’s face had gone blank by then, and he seemed almost stuck in some sort of trance as, before the entire visitor and home crowds on either side, he dropped his pants and went on all fours.   
  
Before half of the school that had showed up, and a shocked but pleased Casey, Carson began to void his bowls, shitting with his back faced to the crowd as thick, steaming piles burst from his anus in the fastest, heaviest stream of feces that the black cat had ever seen. He didn’t physically know how it was possible that Carson might have had all of that in him and still be playing football, though he hadn’t realized just yet what was happening until there came another shout out from someone in the crowd to look over to the cheerleaders as well. Casey turned his head just in time to see Ashlyn pulling off her own skirt before the crowd, crouching over one of the benches on the sidelines of the field as she slid her panties down to her thighs. In front of the other half of the crowd, she also started to unload the contents of her lower intestines to take a dump while the rest of the cheer leading squad looked in shock at her disgusting display. Her expression remained emotionless, her gaze blank as she squeezed out long rope after rope of feces from between her ass cheeks.   
  
It seemed that just shitting himself hadn’t been enough for Carson, either. Where he finally unloaded what little was left in him from covering the field with his shit, he gave a sudden, unexpected groan that Casey could hear even from where he’d taken position on the bottom row of the crowd. Like getting a first hand show of his bully’s embarrassment, he leaned forward with interest as Carson’s hips jerked up a couple of times, and his cock, now hard from the simple relief of having managed to fully void his insides, started to twitch as the bull was immediately pushed into an intense orgasm as well, ejaculating on the field in front of him, covering the grass in a spray of cum just as he had in a pile of feces behind him.   
  
Just as his cock stopped twitching, dropping with the last dregs of cum drawn from his body, Ashlyn also gave a shameless moan, her eyes rolling up briefly on her blank expression. Her lips parted further, her high pitched voice echoing out as if she might have been deep in the throws of getting pounded on her back, though her legs were still spread for every spectator to see as she jerked her hips up a few more times before quivering, her pulsing pussy giving a spray of her own cum as she ejaculated across the field as well, leaving both of his tormentors desperate for breath as their bodies tried to catch up with the intense feeling of both emptying equally sizable shits out on the field and then coming harder than either of them ever did while alone together.   
  
Right as the two started to come out of their strange, emotionless trance, the crowd also seemed to come out of their silent, shocked state—and then the noises of shock and disgust started to echo out, with the mixed reactions finding the display hilarious (most of the enemy football team and some of Carson’s friends alike) or downright nauseating (most of Ashlyn’s fellow cheerleaders, and a good part of the crowd.) It took a few moments for the two of them to realize just what they’d done in the strange, dreamlike state that had taken over their minds while they’d made such fools of themselves, and in their own humiliation, they tried to gather what was left of their clothing and their dignity before scurrying off to the safety of the out building where the athlete lockers were contained.   
  
Casey, who had started laughing only moments before the rest of the crowd’s had, his delight hard to miss in the sudden surge of vindictive satisfaction at seeing their misery, now realized that there was something to the chamber pot and the strange voice that had come from it—and now, rather than turning around and using it as a quick way of making money, he had other plans entirely. Thriving on the laughter and sounds of his classmate’s vitriol turning against the former star player and the now ex-head cheer leader, because surely neither would be accepted back onto their teams, he hugged the chamber pot a little closer under his arm and allowed himself to thrive on the fact that he was no longer the object of that ridicule.   
  
Still, riding on the high of his victory, he realized that despite the time of night, there was another target of his vengeful feelings that he wanted to test the chamber pot out on—and he had just the idea of where to find him. The semester prior, one of his professors, a middle aged hippo, had failed him for what Casey considered to be an arbitrary, _ridiculous_ reason. No matter how hard Casey had tried to adjust in the situation, none of his efforts seemed to have any effect—his efforts were met with equal parts resentment and dismissal from his professor, who showed equally little interest in helping Casey succeed in the class, from what he was able to tell. It had nearly cost Casey more than just the class, considering how far down that failure had dropped his GPA.  
  
But Casey remembered his class schedule quite well, and the professor _always_ set his classes on a night time rota. Even though there were plenty of students that would have otherwise wanted to skip and go to the football game, when Casey made his way to the hallways to peek in the doorway of the classroom in the hall the room seemed to be mostly full that night. The aged hippo was teaching at the front of the classroom just as he had the semester prior, but seeing his face again inspired a fit of fury in him that had his claws nearly digging against the chamber pot still in his grasp. His fangs bared, he stepped back and leaned against the wall of the hallway so none of the students would see him peeking in and be able to relate what he was about to do with what was about to happen.  
  
He closed his eyes just as tightly as he had earlier, imagining his professor’s face vividly in his mind while his fingertips brushed along the surface of the chamber pot instead of the furious grip of his claws. Like before, he gave it only a few moments, given that he knew how quickly it had worked before. The minute his eyes snapped open, the professor’s went wide as well, unseeing as he stopped immediately in the middle of his lecture, the same kind of trance descending over his expression that Casey had seen earlier across the faces of his bullies. The hippo’s expression went blank, the life leaving his eyes as a strangely serene, emotionless wave crossed his features. He stopped in the middle of gesturing to the chalk board in the midst of his lecture, and with a slow, near-dedication, he stepped forward and lifted himself forward to the desk, dropping his pants and underwear to lift himself over the desk, though nothing was hidden from the ones regarding the front of the class in various states of shock and awe. From the narrow slip in the window, Casey had a full view of the side of the show.   
  
He saw how his ass cheeks started to part around the rise of a massive shit that started to press from the hole in his ass. Though it was surely a dump that would make most groan men grunt and wheeze with the exertion of what it would take to normally pass that level of feces, the trance kept him enraptured and blank, zoned out for the duration of every log after log of heavy, thick pass of scat from his inner bowels. The hippo gripped the edges of the desk he was squatting against in the front of the class, and considering Casey had a perfect profile view from the side in the hallway, the black cat anthro could also see the hippo’s erection casually starting to rise in front of him. With the hippo’s back to the class, giving them the full, shocking view of his puckered ass hole stretching wide over each rope that he pushed out onto the growing, stinking pile on top of the desk. The various students of the class now were starting to recoil, the stench filling the room making some of their expressions of shock twist into disgust.   
  
His shitting came to a close right as the pile under him grew so large it nearly reached up to his ass, though by then his express voiding of his bowls ended, his cock was standing hard before him, leaving him with a certain difficulty in the front—his cock was completely hard, and when he had finally finished emptying his back half atop the desk, his hips suddenly pushed forward. In great, flowing arcs of cum he started to spurt upwards. It flew with just as much force as he’d splattered the desk with, and though he was facing away from the students in the room, there was no denying that they could see his arcs of cum slam forward splatter up against his own writing on the blackboard in front of him. Only with a groan aloud did he pause, and snap his head upwards, to hear the mixed reaction of shocked laughter and disgusted disbelief from the students behind him. Turning in shock as the professor slowly realized what he’d done in front of _everyone,_ the hippo frantically started to scrambled for his clothing, a shocked humiliation written across his face as the horror of his trance-induced actions came to light. Now the entire classroom, other students who Casey was sure would sympathize with him from the hippo’s ridiculous grading criteria, was starting to break in in jeers of shaming their professor, and laughter at his expense. Casey barely had time to duck back into another hallway out of sight as the hippo came stampeding from the room in an effort to make a hasty escape from the judgment of his students, stumbling as he fought against his own running legs to pull his underwear and pants back on.   
  
It was all Casey could do to cover his mouth and silence his laughter so the professor wouldn’t catch him on his way out and realize that it had all been a part of Casey’s revenge now that he had the tool to enact it. The cat remained in that little nook of the lecture building until his hard laughter died down, drowned out only by the entire class leaving slowly after their teacher, each laughing just as hard as he was. Among shaming him, Casey could already hear the talks of the other students calling their department head and the school emergency lines to report the ‘grotesque’ and arguably illegal conduct of their professor. More satisfied with this result than he had been with the two at the football game, Casey felt a rising sense of confidence—and bitter joy at the sensation of revenge—and started to make his way back to his dorm room to settle in for the night. He had other plans for the chamber pot, but it was late, and he would have all night to plot it.   
  
Or at least, that was what he had assumed.   
  
What he didn’t expect was the sight of his roommate Victor being just the sloppy pig that he was, unbearable, loud, and obnoxious—going to town on his girlfriend in Casey’s own bed when he slid his student ID in the keypad to get access to the door. The two were going at it for a few seconds too long for Casey’s comfort even after Casey cleared his throat a little awkwardly to try and garner their attention. When Victor didn’t actually acknowledge Casey’s attempts to get his attention, too distracted by the focus of plowing his girlfriend while the black cat did his best to get them to do anything to _stop_.  
  
“ _Victor!”_ Casey finally snapped loudly, the euphoria of his victory over both his bullies and the worst professor at the university wavering as a result of his pig-headed roommate ruining _his_ bed. _  
  
_ Victor spared him one look, giving him an annoyed snort with one more smack of his hips deep into his girlfriend, before he snapped back. “Get the fuck out, Casey, I’m busy here!” He pointed to the door, his rough demands delivered in the harsh, snappy tone that would cow the cat back out of the room or out of the pig’s way usually. This time, as Casey’s high of victory started to fade, he didn’t budge.  
  
As his anger started to bubble up within him, feeling the same, furious hopelessness that so much of his life had been spent in, he suddenly realized that he didn’t _have_ to let the pig do whatever he wanted in their dorm room any longer. He had the power in his very hands to make sure that Victor would start taking him seriously from then on. Casey took a step back, closing his eyes as he pictured the faces that was already practically in front of him. The image of the pig’s sweaty, red face appeared in mind, and just for good measure, Casey threw in the girlfriend that hadn’t stopped Victor from causing him so many problems in the first place, giggling and going along with having sex on the bed that she _knew_ wasn’t Victor’s.   
  
Almost immediately, the loud slap of skin on skin seemed to cease, and when Casey opened his eyes again, his roommate was moving upwards to crouch over the girl’s stomach, his cock still standing hard over her though it was no longer in use. Casey, who knew what was going to happen next, scrambled to grab his phone in time; though he didn’t think it would take any more than a few pictures to convince his roommate to never snap off at him again. The two of them bore the same vacant, hypnotized expressions that the professor and the popular two on the field had, but it was easy to take pictures from an angle where it looked like both of them were into it both willingly—and perhaps with some excitement, as well. Casey knew just how to frame it as Victor began to lay thick ropes of feces out on her bare belly. Not only would it keep Victor from causing him problems ever again—if Casey put the pictures to good use, he’d probably lose his girlfriend, as well. Using this evidence against the both would at least make sure that he’d never see her face—or that of anyone else’s, possibly—in their dorm room again while Victor was his roommate.   
  
If he could help it, Victor wouldn’t want to show his face while Casey was in the room ever again, and Casey was just fine with that.   
  
He took pictures from behind, the side, and from the front as well, catching every debauched angle he could manage while Victor vacated impossible amounts of feces from his bowels. Only when there was a large, steaming pile of shit sitting on top of his girlfriend’s stomach did Casey notice the effects of the chamber pot start to wear off a bit, and smugly, he made sure that he was waiting nearby when Victor snapped out of it first after sharply groaning and covering her chest with ropes of cum, looking bewildered at the fact that he didn’t remember the last several minutes of what had happened. Casey had made sure to get a few candid snaps of the cum shot as well, and he let them both slowly come out of the effects of the chamber pot while he flipped through the images he’d managed to grab.  
  
When his girlfriend came to, though, the shrill shriek of finding herself covered in a mound of his shit with Victor crouched over her echoed through the room quickly enough, and Victor started to briefly panic, trying to keep her from pushing him off of the bed entirely though Casey stepped forward, lifting his phone to catch both of their attentions, showing one of the worst glamour shots he had taken, making both of them look as if they’d been caught in the middle of _intentionally_ enjoying the punishment he’d dealt out to them. They were caught in horror as they looked at the picture, and though it looked like Victor might snap in fury in that moment, his girlfriend couldn’t handle the disgust of the pile of shit still warming her belly, flailing as she shoved him off and screamed again, clearly not understanding that it wasn’t actually Victor’s fault that he’d been defecating on her. Neither seemed to realize that there had been any lost time in the hypnotism, and Casey knew that he’d gotten away free with this implication of blackmail when Victor’s fury lead not to Casey getting throttled, but him desperately moving to chase after his girlfriend, and nearly slipping in his own feces, which spilled out across the floor from where it’d fallen from her chest.   
  
“If you ever bring anyone back to this room, then I’ll show everyone this!” Casey called after them, feeling a surge of vindictive pride over the fact that for once, he wasn’t going to be the one that wound up embarrassed or pushed out of the place where he slept. Sure, he would have had to clean up the mess (or force Victor to clean it up, given that it was _his_ mess and now Casey had the blackmail material to use against him to get him to do practically whatever he wanted. Considering his own bed needed to be cleaned as well, Casey gave the chamber part under his arm an almost affectionate pat for what it had allowed him to do over the course of the last few hours. In the span of a single night, he’d managed to get back at every single person who had managed to abuse him and his good will for the course of every year he’d been at the university so far.   
  
Settling down into Victor’s bed instead, the cat made himself comfortable, and let himself start to drift off, thinking of how he might continue to use the chamber pot for the next few weeks to come.  
  
And use it he did.   
  
In the days that followed, Casey began to carry the chamber pot with him wherever he went. Though no one knew that it was him behind the rash, random instances of people randomly dropping their pants and shitting themselves in public, only to immediately cum as well. Anyone who had ever even slightly offended him found themselves suddenly humiliated in public—and the smallest perceived slight was enough to have him calling on the chamber pot to avenge his honor. The more he went mad with power, the more he found himself offended at the smallest things; when people didn’t immediately notice his bad moods or desire for power, he would use the chamber pot’s power against them. When he found himself furious with the fact that no one had acknowledged how well _he_ had handled the bullies of the school, he found himself thinking that all of them deserved some sort of punishment.   
  
It made him realize that _no_ one in the school was innocent, and for their lack of recognition of his newfound abilities, he planned on punishing a much larger scale of individuals who had failed to notice his efforts so far—and that was how he found himself standing next to an entire auditorium when the next school pep rally rolled around. The chamber pot sat on his lap, though he had chosen to sit on the sidelines rather than immerse himself into the crowds in the stands and bleachers. His fingers rubbed slowly over it as he waited for everyone’s attention to focus on the cheerleaders that rushed the gymnasium floor. He didn’t know if the chamber pot would work without imagining a face directly, but as he closed his eyes and let his paw pads roam over the chamber pot, he imagined the picture of the entire gymnasium before him, doing his best to recall every face from the crowd that he had seen cheering there.   
  
Suddenly, the cheers went quiet.   
  
When he opened his eyes again, in almost perfect synchronization, everyone in the auditorium was staring straight forward, their eyes lifeless and bearing the same hypnotized look that the all of his prior victims had had as well. Almost eagerly, Casey leaned forward to watch as every single person in the stands reached down, grabbed their pants or lifted their skirts, lowered their underwear, and proceed to shit on the bleachers they’d all just been sitting on. The scent of every person emptying the unnaturally large load in their intestines was almost overpowering, but the sight of all of them humiliating themselves and the build up that would lead to the realization was even more powerful. In chorus, he could hear soft moans and sounds of pleasure from the crowd, as just as many of them came after they finished shitting all over the seating area. They did it without aim, many of them cumming on the people sitting in front of them or down their own legs, and only afterwards did they start to slowly snap out of their trance-like states. A wide, startled sense seemed to cover the entire crowd, and as they turned around in growing bewilderment, their shock gradually began to turn to humiliated horror. No one could make fun of anyone else considering they had all equally shat themselves—except for Casey, who was barely containing himself with laughter after he grabbed a few pictures and hastily did his best to leave through one of the double doors without getting noticed before the inevitable flood of people too embarrassed to stay in public would start to follow.   
  
He could still barely control himself as he moved out into the woods where he had first found the chamber pot, and when he was in the safety and privacy of the empty forest, he burst out laughing. Though initially he had started using the chamber pot for revenge against those who had wronged him, he was going mad with the power and thrill of being able to humiliate and ruin anyone who he saw fit to.   
  
He had been laughing so hard that he had almost missed the strange voice that echoed out from within the chamber pot once more.  
  
“ _ **You have misused my power. Instead of seeking to avenge yourself against those who have wronged you, you have become a tyrant worthy of their rank. It is time for you to repay the debt of abusing my gifts.”  
  
**_ His laughter faded into stopping short, a confused look crossing his features as he glanced down in bewilderment at the chamber pot in hand. Without more warning than that, a sharp pain flashed through his stomach, making him set the chamber pot down and double over, grasping at his stomach with a quick groan—though from there, he realized there were precious few options. He could feel the pressure moving through his gut, and the only place he had to try and comfortably relieve the bowel movement he could feel coming on was the chamber pot itself. Hastily, Casey moved to undo his pants, turning around and sitting directly on the chamber pot, ready to start relieving himself.   
  
However, instead of the resistance of the chamber pot on his bottom, he suddenly felt his world spinning. More quickly than he could get his footing or grasp out to stop himself, he was falling, but not to the ground. The chamber pot seemed to grow wider just to engulf him, and though he should have landed almost immediately, he found himself falling almost endlessly into a large abyss. To his confusion, his clothing seemed to peel off of him on the way down. His pants flew somewhere far off with ease from how far he’d pushed them down in his eagerness to not make a mess of himself, and somewhere along the way his shirt managed to fly off as well, and when he finally landed with a small thump, he was entirely naked. When he started to push himself up, he couldn’t help but notice that the golden floor was the same texture and feeling as the chamber pot. As he looked up, he saw the open sky above, realizing that he was now _much_ smaller, and trapped at the bottom of the same device he’d used to torment so many so far.  
  
“How am I supposed to get out of here? I- _ugh-”_ In the middle of his ruminating, the sharp pain from earlier returned, and he hit the ground hard once more on all fours. It burned through his gut, keeping him from uncurling from himself as he gasped in exertion. His ass cheeks felt like they were popping around the sudden, loud fart that blasted from his ass. It was so audible that it terrified him for a moment, and had he not been the one passing it he would have assumed it was someone playing the noise over speakers on the inside of the metal pot, the sound echoing—but it wasn’t stopping there.   
  
The pain continued as his anus began to stretch from a wrinkled pucker to a perfectly round circle with the size of the shit that he was now pushing from his body. Though all of his victims had let out impressively sized shits, this one was unnaturally huge; it hurt to push it from his body, taking every ounce of strength in him to manage to get it started, and he felt easily like he was pushing out logs of shit with the same circumference of his own waist, easily.   
  
“ _ **Fill your way to the top for freedom; this will be the price you pay for your arrogance.**_ _ **You will continue until you reach the top, or you will perish in your failure to do so.**_ _ **”**_  
  
Every time that Casey got close to the feeling that he might finally stop shitting, his stomach seemed to fill all over again, and right as the cat opened his mouth to demand any answers from the voice, furious that he had been put in the same, embarrassing position that he’d put so many others through by now, a spontaneous orgasm slipped through him, making his head rear back as he cried out, his hips rolling as he spattered the floor of the chamber pot in his cum. The intensity of it also made the long, snake-like course of feces still pushing steadily from his stretched, abused anus move even more quickly, and he was quivering as he grasped at the ground, dragging himself slowly away from the pile of waste that was quickly coming to rival his own size in sheer volume.   
  
“Please,” he started to groan, horrified at the fact that the minutes were starting to feel like they were ticking on into hours. When he heard no answer from the ominous voice, his dread grew into fury, and he began to shout.   
  
“Why even let me _do_ any of it if you were just going to do this to me!” He cried out fruitlessly, desperate for some sense of release, though every time he seemed close to having any relief, the shitting would start again, or a hard round of orgasms would rack his body, leaving him helpless and miserably stretched out, with his own waste continuing to pile up behind him—but none of it ever seemed to get him any higher towards the lip, considering he wouldn’t let it stack easily. There never came a moment where he _wasn’t_ shitting—any slender logs were immediately followed by ones that had him stretched taut again, and to his horror, eventually he started to run out of room to crawl away from. His own feces, never ending and magically continuing, began to pile up under him. When the smell wasn’t making him light headed, his own exhaustion was—and he found himself passing out more than once either from how hard he had cum, or how much the constant bowel movement simply wore him out. Every time he would come back from the brief, beautiful reprieve of unconsciousness, the full force of his own miserable series of shitting would persist in full force, not even ceasing while he’d been passed out.   
  
Hours dragged on, and if he had thought he had been miserable in dragging himself along the bottom of the chamber pot, trying to avoid dragging himself through his own mess, moving through the slog of his own cum and shit was much worse. He had to drag himself upwards lest he start to sink in his own filth, barely dragging himself up and over the mounts of stinking, feculent waste. He was in a daze, sure that days must have passed in a week from hell where he couldn’t keep tract of the days. He lost track of trying to look up at the chamber pot’s mouth to try and gauge what time it was, only ever able to see the darkness of the inside as he filled up the space that was several times larger than himself. Casey’s pile of shit grew higher until he had to climb to stay on top of it, afraid to know how far down he would sink if he fell into any of the pits that his ropes of shit made, glistening with his cum from the unexpected and unrelenting orgasms. It felt like at least five days of constant shitting when he finally managed to reach up, barely grasping the lip of the chamber pot, dragging himself out and over the edge.   
  
When he hit the ground this time—the real ground, feeling the messy stick of leaves and twigs to his legs—he was back to his normal size. Casey looked down, realizing that it couldn’t possibly have been a terrifying fever dream: he was still covered head to toe in his own shit and patches of his own cum, and the first time he tried to move, there was a deep-set soreness that ran through his ass all the way to his hips, evidence that he had, in fact, been stuck somewhere shitting for an unimaginable time, but his phone nearby and the night sky suggested that not a day had passed.   
  
Looking back over to the chamber pot in confusion, he noticed that it was still full to the brim with the same shit that still caked against his fur—though when he went to reach for the chamber pot, it vanished from his grasp, as if it had never been there. With some small struggle, the cat moved to stand, wincing as he rubbed one of his sore ass cheeks. Grabbing his phone with the other hand, he realized that the chamber pot hadn’t returned his clothing.  
  
Somehow, he was going to have to get across campus and back to his dorm room dressed only in his own filth, likely limping from the ache still deep in his bottom. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to.


End file.
